“I’ll be whipt if you tech me with them hands,” said Sneak, running away.
“Oh, what shall I do?” cried Joe, sinking down, his rage suddenly subdued by his sickening condition.
“If you’ll say all’s square betwixt us, I’ll tell you what to do. If you don’t do something right quick, they won’t let you sleep in the house for a month.”
“Well. Now tell me quick!”
“Pull off your coat before it soaks through.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said Joe, obeying with alacrity, and shivering in the cold air.
“Now twist a stick into it, so you can carry it up to the house, without touching it with your hands, that is, if none of it got on ’em,” continued Sneak.
“There ain’t a bit anywhere else but on the shoulder of my coat,” said Joe, acting according to Sneak’s instructions. Filling their buckets, they at length started towards the house, Joe holding a bucket in one hand, and a long pole, on which dangled his coat, in the other. When they entered, the company involuntarily started; and Glenn, losing all control over his temper, hurled a book at his man’s head, and commanded him not to venture in his presence again until he could by some means dispense with his horrid odor.
“Foller me,” said Sneak, leading the way to the stable, and taking with him one of the spades he had brought in from the burial; “now,” he continued, when they were with the horses, “dig a hole at this end of the stall, and bury your coat. If you hadn’t took it in the house, like a dunce, they’d never ’ave known any thing about it.”
“Oh, my goodness! I’m sick!” said Joe, urging the spade in the earth with his foot, and betraying unequivocal signs of indisposition. However, the garment was soon covered up, and the annoyance abated.